Battle of the Boybands
by coritos
Summary: Fingerbang loses popularity when a rival boyband threatens to take over the pop music scene. Their manager thinks this is the perfect opportunity to gain publicity by forcing Kyle to become "the gay one", but when the other members of Fingerbang discover Kyle's "new" sexual orientation, things start to get a little crazy, and Kyle fears for his ass.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: If Fingerbang had gotten the recognition they deserved (because, admit it, their first hit was about as good as anything else on the radio these days), I imagine that this is how their lives would have been... Okay, so I may have embellished on certain parts, but that is one of the perks of being the narrator! Also, I tend to use run-on sentences... I'm sorry.**

**This is an updated chapter. I'm uploading the next chapter later tonight or early tomorrow (it's written but I just need to revise it).**

* * *

Fame.

It seems like everybody wants to be famous these days. They all want to see their name in lights; to be worshipped like a God; to live the easy life with a fat wallet, a huge mansion, a 24K gold chain, and a bottle of Cristal. But sometimes the desire to make it big overshadows the true nature of being famous. The reality is a harsh world, and rarely does anyone emerge from that realm unscathed. People you have never met will hate you just for existing. The media will use you to sell their shady agendas to the masses. You'll be criticized for being too fat one day and then too skinny the next, and if you ever manage to find the balance between those two extremes, then people will scour every inch of your body until they find another physical imperfection they can berate. Everything you do or say will be scrutinized and twisted around to the point that even you will start believing the crazy lies plastered in the pages of _The National Inquirer_!

Then one day, while you're out partying with a few of your buddies, someone will pat you on the back and offer you a hit of their coke. Not wanting to disappoint anyone by refusing, you'll snort the line of the crushed white powder presented in front of you on the table. Your friends will cheer you on from the sidelines, and you'll be cheering right along with them because everything feels so great. Nothing will ever go wrong because you know that your friends will have your back.

Before you realize it, you'll be tripping in the corner of some random bathroom bleeding from your ass wondering where all of your friends went, and, while you're reflecting on every bad decision you've ever made in your life and sobbing for an escape from whatever mental diseases, insecurities, or drug addictions you've developed from being in the public eye, there will be that one asshole who opens the door, recognizes you, takes a photo of your pathetic state, and cashes in to some trashy tabloid magazine for a lump of money...

Fortunately, Kyle hasn't hit that point during his ride on this fame rollercoaster, though he has mentioned to Stan that if anyone in Fingerbang ever hits that stage, it will probably be Kenny.

Kyle and his friends formed their group back in fourth grade after Cartman had some crazy dream about making a million dollars. Now, ten years and six albums later, Fingerbang is still selling out venues and raking in millions every year.

_I guess we would be what you would consider a "success". _Kyle rolls his eyes. He really has no idea why anyone would want to be famous. It's really overrated, and stupid, and the business is full of narcissistic idiots who function on the belief that the sun rises when they wake up in the morning and sets when they fall asleep at night.

In truth, Kyle's actually just bitter. In his defense, it would be difficult for any guy to appreciate the luxuries of the rich and famous life when there are people constantly accusing him of being gay despite numerous (failed) attempts to convince those cretins otherwise.

Kyle glares at the television screen as the reporters spout rumor upon rumor speculating his sexuality. Apparently a guy can't go on a weekend shopping trip with another guy without being accused of being a homosexual these days. He wishes someone would've told him that before he and Stan spent the entire weekend together shopping for new outfits and accessories! _But that new belt with the studs and the buckle I purchased on that shopping trip is fabulous_, he reassures himself. _Plus those new boots I scored will look so chic paired with that cardigan in my closet!_ Kyle continues to contemplate the rest of his new wardrobe, but the narrator digresses...

The news story (if anyone can actually consider celebrity gossip as news) has been developing for the past hour, with one caller in particular who theorized that Kyle has been manifesting gay perversions since the debut of their second album seven years ago. He cited a few of the lyrics Kyle recorded, promotion photos for the album in which he seems to be "reaching for a squeeze of Stan's prick" (as the caller so eloquently phrased it), and outdated interview quotes taken completely out of context (one such quote being: "I like catching"). _I was twelve when I said that, for fuck's sake! I meant catching balls! And not those kind of balls! I meant the kind you play sports with! ARGH! Seriously, what is wrong with these people? Isn't there anything better for the news to report on other than these crazy conspiracy theories about the sexuality of a pop star?_

Unfortunately not, Kyle, for that would be giving the media way too much credit.

Kyle sighs and leans back into the couch, glowering as the reporters continue to comment on photos from the weekend taken by the paparazzi. His private moments have been taken from him once more, and he's resenting the whole stupid fame thing all over again.

The sound of a cell phone ringing on the couch next to Kyle retrieves him from wallowing in the depths of his self-pity. Upon reading the name of the caller, he groans and throws his face into the couch cushion. "Great, just what I need right now. Doesn't he realize how late it is?" Kyle grits out angrily. He reluctantly sits up and answers the call.

"Hello?"

"Kyle, darling, this is Steve." Kyle rolls his eyes. As if he didn't already know that. "I see you've been making headlines again today," Steve chuckles into the receiver.

Kyle's left eye twitches. "They're just a bunch of morons blowing everything out of proportion. It's not really anything to be concerned about."

"Yes, but Kyle, every rumor has an inkling of truth somewhere, right?" Kyle swears he can sense the bastard smirking as he says this, which infuriates him. Before Kyle can lash out, Steve continues, "Anyway, I didn't call you to taunt you."

"Then what do you need? In case you haven't noticed, it's really late," Kyle huffs, slumping into the corner of his sofa.

Steve responds with a laugh. "I just need to speak with you in my office in the morning. Meet me at 8," he orders just before ending the call.

Kyle stares at the screen of his cell phone. Meetings with Steve never result in anything good. Dread begins pooling in Kyle's stomach and he starts to feel lightheaded.

"Fuck."

* * *

The next morning, the redhead finds himself pacing in front of Steve's office, still dreading this sudden meeting. Sure, the man didn't seem upset at all with the rumors that the recent "scandal" (_If it can even be considered that_, Kyle scoffs inwardly) created, but if there's one thing that Kyle has learned about Steve throughout the past decade, it's that the man is always plotting something, and it's usually at Kyle's expense. He shudders as horrible, repressed memories resurface (namely the incident that occurred in Toronto). Steve is an evil, manipulative bastard, but today Kyle refuses to bow to him! He steels himself for whatever is about to take place.

The door to Steve's office opens, and he greets Kyle with a pleasant smile. A violent shiver runs down the redhead's spine despite his attempts to remain nonchalant. Fuck, he hasn't even set foot in the office and he's already falling apart! Kyle chastises himself to pull it together and, taking a deep breath to ease his nerves, he steps into the office. Steve resumes his seat behind his desk and directs Kyle to the seat in front of him. The manager rests his chin on his palm as Kyle adjusts his chair, his inquisitive eyes staring intently at the redhead's face. He doesn't say anything as the two sit in complete silence. Needless to say, it's really awkward and Kyle is extremely uncomfortable, but he's aware that Steve doesn't care about how Kyle feels.

"Kyle, you seem so tense. Did you have another nightmare about Toronto?" A smirk spreads across Steve's face.

Kyle narrows his eyes hatefully at the man, because, yes, he did have another nightmare about that last night. Leave it to Steve to provoke him, but Kyle won't be so easily manipulated today! "So, what exactly did you want to talk about?" he asks tightly, sidestepping the whole Toronto conversation.

Steve sits up in his chair and claps his hands together. "Ah, Kyle, you are always one to get straight to the point. You need to learn to lighten up a little." He chuckles again lightly. Steve smirks at the redhead before continuing, "I think the time has come for a certain member of Fingerbang to update his image, don't you agree?" He peers at Kyle over the ridge of his glasses.

Okay, Kyle's not sure he likes where this conversation is going, but Steve is staring at him like he expects him to answer so... "Uh, yeah, I guess?" Kyle mutters hesitantly, carefully meeting his manager's gaze.

Steve's grin spreads wider across his pale face and he swivels his chair to the side, staring at the Fingerbang poster plastered on the wall. "As you already know, each member in the group has their own individual identity so that Fingerbang can appeal to a diverse fan base. Stan is the 'sweet, athletic, All-American heart-throb that girls want to take home to meet their parents'. Kenny is the 'carefree, delinquent bad boy with a womanizing streak that girls want to change'. Cartman is the 'arrogant, self-righteous douchebag type that girls seem to love for some reason'." Steve pauses for dramatic effect and looks back to Kyle, his black eyes gleaming in amusement. "So, my question is, what are you?"

Yup, the man is definitely plotting something. Kyle groans inwardly, knowing that he's not going to like the answer, whatever it may be. He responds, "I'm not sure."

Luckily, (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it), Steve is quick to supply him with an answer. "Kyle, in light of these recent scandals, I think the best course of action would be for you to become the 'limp-wristed, pillow-biting, gay best friend fantasy'."

Kyle gapes at him, unable to comprehend what he's saying. When the redhead doesn't respond to him right away, Steve urges, "Every girl wants a gay best friend to guide her through her insecurities, and you're just the type to appeal to that desire! Your delicate constitution won't intimidate or overwhelm them."

_He wants me to become the what...? Did he just say what I think he said? WAIT! Did he just call me "delicate"?!_

Kyle stares at his manager, still in disbelief. Surely, this has to be some cruel prank or something. There's no way this man is being serious right now. Kyle clears his throat, hoping desperately that he is just imagining this bizarre request. Just for clarification, he asks, "Um, you want me to do what now?"

Steve sighs, frustrated for having to repeat himself once more, "I want you to become 'the gay one', Kyle."

And with those words, any inkling of hope that Kyle still held in his pounding heart vanishes.

The gay one? And on top of that Steve wants him to be the bitch? What would his parents think of this if he actually went along with this crazy scheme? They would probably disown him and have him taken off the family register for sullying the Broflovski name. Plus, this would just be giving Cartman way too much ammunition to torture him with in the future.

"No, that's not fucking happening!" he shrieks indignantly, crossing his arms.

"Come on, Kyle, you should listen to reason. You know just as well as I do that Fingerbang needs some sort of media storm to stay relevant. Take a look at this." Steve carelessly tosses a magazine on his desk and waits expectantly for Kyle to take it.

Kyle hesitates for a second before reaching his hand forward to grab the magazine. On the cover is a picture of an up-and-coming boyband. His green eyes scan the cover, not really understanding what Steve is fussing about until he spots the name of the magazine. His eyes instantly flick back to Steve.

"Wait, isn't this the magazine that we had the shoot for last week? I thought we were supposed to be on the cover?"

Steve pounds the desk with his palms. Kyle jerks back in his seat. "Don't you get it yet? There won't be anymore covers for Fingerbang if this keeps up. With the market becoming saturated with dime-a-dozen boybands, Fingerbang is just old news!"

Kyle puts the magazine on the desk and squares himself to face his manager. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to pretend I'm gay so that we can get more publicity and get our pictures on more magazine covers?"

Steve's eyes shine, a smile gracing his lips. "Yes! Oh, Kyle, I knew you would get it! Okay, so I was planning that at tomorrow's event-"

"Hold up. I didn't say that I am actually going along with this plan."

Steve instantly clamps his mouth and focuses a glare on the boy in front of him. He grits his teeth. His eyebrows furrow dangerously low. "Why not?" he asks slowly, an insidious tone echoing in the question.

Kyle grips the arm rests of his chair, barely able to restrain the urge to punch his manager in the face. "Well, there is one major thing wrong with this entire plan: I'm. Not. Gay!"

Steve is silent for a moment before he speaks again. "No, Kyle. You will become 'the gay one', even if I have to force you onto that stage tomorrow by those pretty red curls to declare it to the world. And if for any reason you do not agree to this, then I will rip up your contract and kick you out of Fingerbang and you can say good-bye to life as you know it. You'll become nobody, forced to live life as a hollow shell of the man you used to be, while people who were once jumping up and down screaming your name pass you by on the streets without even sparing you a second glance, and the only thing you'll have for comfort is either your crippling drug addiction or the gun as your put it to your head. Do you want that, Kyle? Do you?"

_Well, when he puts it like that..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you everyone for reading/following/favoriting (I'm making this a word...)/reviewing this story. I apologize for taking so long to update, but when I was re-reading the first chapter, my mind wouldn't let me start this chapter unless I rewrote it! Anyway, I hope you enjoy. It was so fun to write!**

**Slight warning for outrageous fanclub/boyband names... really... My brain got a little carried away... I'm really sorry...**

* * *

Kyle really hates music events, or any event for that matter, but he especially despises this event. It's the MTV Music Awards, the sewer of all music award ceremonies, with special musical performances by Miley Cyrus and The Dildudes. Kyle didn't recognize the second name when he read it on the roster, but he assumes they're a new boy group by the sheer ridiculousness of the moniker.

_Maybe Steve is right. There are way too many boy bands these days. What if we get left behind? _The redhead sighs and leans back into his seat, forcing himself to stop that horrible train of thought because he absolutely will not go along with any of Steve's crazy plans! Never! His outright heterosexual nature won't allow it!

Kyle and the other three members of Fingerbang are in the limousine on their way to the event. None of them are looking forward to this abomination, but their contracts compel them to attend all music-related award events and, of course, the fear of any repercussions Steve may plot for them if they refuse to show up (the latter being the _real _motivating factor).

Stan is sitting beside Kyle (perhaps a little too closely, but Kyle doesn't seem to take notice) bouncing his right knee up and down. Stan is always nervous whenever he's expected to set foot in front of a camera. It's a wonder that he even became a famous entertainer in the first place since the job requires such exposure, but considering that his fame is directly correlated to the beauty of his face, Kyle guesses that it makes sense somehow. Cartman is seated on the bench across from the other three members playing a game on his cell phone. He's ignoring everyone in the vehicle because he claims that their "gay" may rub off on him if he actually interacts with them. Kyle doesn't mind receiving the cold shoulder, mainly due to the fact that his interactions with Cartman usually result in heated debates and, on occasion, comes to blows. Kenny is situated to Kyle's right ranting about fat babies. Kyle thinks Kenny is a little shallow, but shares his sentiment nonetheless.

"I mean, I feel bad because I know it's not the kid's fault, but I can't help being grossed out by this chick's baby. It's really fat. Like, obese fat!" Kenny continues ranting about infants with kankles, despite the fact that nobody is really paying attention to him at this point, until the limousine finally rolls up to a crowd of photographers waiting to pounce on them. It's a horrifying moment for the boys, really. The calm before the storm, so to speak.

"Looks like we're here already," Stan states, adjusting the hem of his shirt and running his fingers through his hair (which is exactly what the stylist specifically instructed him not to do, but Stan hates this hair style and these clothes are way too tight for his liking).

The other three boys groan in response before the door is opened. Kenny is the first to exit the vehicle, waving gloriously to the Fingerbangerz (the name of their groupies-the fans' idea, not theirs) chanting in the crowd while the other three members reluctantly step onto the red carpet. Fan girl screams fill the air: proclamations of love, marriage proposals, offers for one-night stands, and even pleads to have their babies. A girl pushes in front of the pack to get a closer look at the boy group only to get brutally beaten down by a herd of raging girls standing behind her. Sadly, Kyle can't even say that he's shocked since it happens at every event Fingerbang attends.

Flash bulbs go off as the photographers scramble around to capture the best angles of the group. The four boys strike a rehearsed pose before walking down the carpet toward the venue doors. Some of the Fingerbangerz are fainting as the boys pass by, but that may have something to do with the fact that Kenny is winking suggestively and flirting with every girl in his line of sight. He's the one with the womanizing streak image to maintain, after all.

Everything is great and going as planned. Hell, Kyle even contemplates that Fingerbang may be able to snag a couple magazine covers without him "coming out" in front of a national audience...

Then it happens.

"OH MY GOD! IT'S THE DILDUDES!"

Those damn Dildude assholes appear out of nowhere, and suddenly everyone is flocking to them. The photographers that were crawling all over each other to snag the best photos of Fingerbang are now begging this new boyband to pose for their cameras. The fan girls that were previously screaming for Fingerbang are now cheering for The Dildudes. Even the girls that fainted were miraculously resuscitated as if by the mere presence of those guys only to faint once again.

The members of Fingerbang watch on by the door, gaping at the scene playing out in front of them on the carpet.

"What the fuck just happened, guys?" Cartman asks once he finally mildly recovers from the shock of the spectacle.

"I think we just got ditched, dude," Stan supplies, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket.

Cartman crosses his arms and grits out, "Can you guys really believe that this is happening?" He looks at the other three expectantly. When the boys merely shrug at one another, Cartman rolls his eyes and huffs, "Those fucking dildos are going to ruin us! We need to take a stand! First, we need to find some blackmail, then-"

"We're not going to blackmail them, fat ass," Kyle growls, mimicking Cartman by crossing his arms in front of his chest as well.

"Aye! Don't call me fat, Jew! Stan, Kenny, are you really going to sit here and just take this crap?"

"Come on, Cartman, they're not going to replace us. They're just another pansy boy group." (Kenny is quick to quip that Fingerbang is also a "pansy boy group", but Stan chooses to ignore that outburst as he continues to make his point). "They'll get one or two hits and then they'll fade away like all of the others," Stan reasons as he straightens the hemline of his shirt for the fourth time.

"Will they, Stan? What will you do if they take over? What then, Stan?" Cartman is always paranoid that other boy groups will "take over", and he always tries to incite the other guys to wreak havoc on their music rivals. Kyle briefly reminiscences about how Cartman spouted this same exact crap when the Jonas Brothers started gaining attention. _But we all know they are just a bunch of loser nobodies now._

With that mild reassurance, Kyle smiles and follows the rest of the Fingerbang members as they walk through the doors. He definitely won't need to "become the gay one" in order for Fingerbang to stay on top and get their photo on magazine covers. They would overcome the whole Dildude obstacle, there's no doubt in his mind. After the event, he will have a rational discussion with his manager once Steve can actually see reason, and then they will laugh about the whole scheme they spent three hours planning yesterday.

Everything will definitely work out. Totally.

* * *

Oh, how Kyle was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Not only have The Dildudes snagged almost every award so far, but literally everyone in the crowd is raving about them. Kyle reluctantly admits that their songs are catchy and edgy, and he guesses their image is sexy, or something. He hasn't really dwelled on that last thought because he's totally not gay at all. But he realizes that this is bad. Very bad.

Kyle feels a vibration in his pocket. He already knows the message is from Steve without seeing the name on the text. Sinking into his seat, he unlocks his cell phone screen and reads the words displayed in front of him.

**Ten minutes.**

Kyle slowly lowers the phone and replaces the item into his front pocket. _This is it. My last few minutes of being straight in the eyes of the public. _And while Kyle mourns for the loss of potential future liaisons with beautiful, busty lingerie models, the announcer calls Fingerbang onto the stage to accept an award.

Kenny drags Kyle after him, following behind Cartman and Stan, who intercept the award. The audience response is dismal, paling into comparison to the response that The Dildudes got after their performance earlier. That is the nail that stabs into Kyle's heterosexual coffin.

Just before the announcer is about to boot Fingerbang off the stage, Kyle reaches for the microphone.

"I have something to announce. Is that okay?" Kyle looks over to the director of the ceremony, who apparently had been napping before Kyle disrupted the flow of the event. The guy shrugs and mutters to the assistant next to him, "Why the hell not", before lounging back into his chair, probably to resume his slumber.

Kyle grinds his teeth before taking a deep breath. "There have been a few rumors going around lately concerning my sexuality." He pauses briefly, assessing the crowd. The room is silent. Cameras are zooming on him. Everyone's eyes are poised on him, waiting to hear whatever grand announcement he's about to make. Kyle clears his throat before continuing, "Well, it's true." He quickly looks over to the other members of Fingerbang, who look as equally confused as the audience. He focuses back on the crowd, clarifying the meaning of his previous words by growling through clenched teeth, "I'm gay."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your kind words and support! The positive response has inspired me to churn out this chapter a lot sooner than I had anticipated. I'm usually a slow writer because I over-analyze and rework my chapters multiple times (and in fact, I edited this author's note at least five times already, which is a bit ridiculous considering most people will probably just skip right over this). **

**Anyway, I hope you all continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it! **

* * *

The ride home from the MTV Music Awards was troublesome, to say the least. Kyle wasn't sure what sort of response his "confession" would extricate from the other members of Fingerbang, but this weird (sexual) tension that loomed in the air wasn't quite the reaction he was expecting. Awkward silence? Sure. Jabs at his sexuality? Knowing his friends as well as he thought he did, he would have assumed this would have been the case. Checking him out and whispering suspiciously when they thought he wouldn't notice (which he totally did notice because they were being completely obvious about it)? Nope, he definitely wasn't expecting that at all.

Fed up (and slightly terrified) with the unwanted attention, he finally confronted them about their odd behavior. "God, enough already! If I didn't know any better, I would think that you guys are arguing about which one of you is getting in my pants with these creepy sex eyes you all keep making at me!" He was generously rewarded with a few garbled excuses that he couldn't even begin to comprehend, to which he kindly rolled his eyes and ignored them for the rest of the ride.

In hindsight, that was probably the moment that set everything into action. Perhaps, if Kyle hadn't said those fateful words on that particular day and unknowingly planted the notion that his ass was up for grabs in their brains, then maybe the story would have played out differently, and the sanctity of his ass been have been spared the injustice of sodomy from the clutches of those hormone-driven mongrels. But, honestly, where's the fun in that?

* * *

Within the walls of his luxury home, Kyle sighs as he sits down on his sofa, the television remote glued to his hand. It has been an just over an hour since the end of the award ceremony. Normally he wouldn't have returned home so early after such an event (this award ceremony being notorious for their over-the-top after-parties and all), but he chose not to linger around after the conclusion of the event and high-tailed it to the limousine with the rest of Fingerbang (who seemed like they were following Kyle around a lot more than usual) in order to avoid the persistent paparazzi and the squealing fan girls.

The crowd had rejoiced when Kyle uttered those two small words that sealed his fate, and by the end of the night, The Dildudes seemed to be a long-forgotten memory in the minds of the audience as they whooped and hollered for Fingerbang. The roar of applause was enough to appease their insatiable manager, who congratulated Kyle once he arrived home via text message for "finally being free to express his sexual desires as nature had intended". Kyle's eyebrow furrowed when he received that disturbing text, and he responded with a few choice words of his own (very crude words strung into very distasteful phrases emphasized in all caps and an ungodly number of exclamation marks). After sending his passionate reply to the "overpaid monkey" (those being the least offensive words he'd just thrown at his manager), Kyle desperately wanted to wash the skank from that Miley Cyrus performance off his body. _Does soft-core porn even qualify as a musical performance?_ Kyle cringed and hauled himself into the shower with the hope that thoroughly scrubbing his body will help him forget that traumatic assault on his eye balls.

Now, freshly showered and skank-free, he battles with himself about whether he should turn on the television or not. Sure, the crowd reaction to his news was fairly positive, and there weren't any pitch forks, torches, or lynch mobs, so that's good, but he is anxious about the media's reaction. The thought of those media assholes possibly portraying him as some stereotypical flamboyant gay sex-deviant with a lisp and a bedazzler made bile rise in his throat.

Deciding that he would rather be kept in the dark, Kyle rises from his seat, tosses the remote carelessly onto the sofa cushion, and makes his way to his bed. He nuzzles into his pillows and burrows himself in the plush blankets. _ Maybe when I wake up in the morning, this whole thing will just be a horrible nightmare._

And, as Kyle flops from side to side on his bed trying to coax his brain to settle into a state of slumber and the other three members of Fingerbang are tucked in their own beds doing other things that include Kyle and some coaxing (but to a different head), The Dildudes are gathered in a cramped studio apartment for an important mandatory band meeting (well, mostly mandatory since one of the members, Tweek, is currently residing in the hospital for a panic attack he suffered shortly after their performance).

"Can you believe this shit? The media is going crazy over Kyle being a queer!" a brown-haired boy grumbles, glaring at the television as the broadcast continues to discuss Kyle's sexuality and Fingerbang's prominence in the pop industry (but mostly Kyle's sexuality because they so called it!). "We had them eating out of the palms of our hands! We were finally going to rise above those jerk offs!" The brunet covers his sniffling face with his hands, hanging his head in defeat.

The blond sitting to his left pats him gently on the shoulder. "Oh, it'll be alright, Clyde. We'll get 'em next time."

"When, Butters? We've been saying that for the past ten years now," Clyde mutters tersely through his sobs.

A raven boy taps his chin appreciatively, staring down at the carpet. "Hmm, the timing does seem a little suspicious. I mean, he's never tried to confirm the rumors before tonight, so why would he choose this night in particular to finally come clean?" He directs his gaze to the boy sitting across the room. "Token, what do you think?"

"Well, Craig, it definitely doesn't seem like a coincidence, that's for sure. It would be a very strategic move on their part," Token murmured thoughtfully.

"So you fellas think that he might just be pretending?" Butters pipes wide-eyed, still rubbing circles against Clyde's back.

Craig shifts his attention back to the broadcast. "We won't know that for sure unless we do a little investigating for ourselves." Craig pauses for a moment, watching the television screen closely as the video of Kyle making his announcement on stage replays for the twelfth time that night. He observes the nervous pitch in the redhead's voice, the fidgeting fingers, and shifty eyes. The raven's frown curves up into a smirk. "All I know is, I think it's about time for a little fun."


End file.
